Home

I moved 2300 miles away from my home, planning to stay for a year.

One year. 365 days and done.

And I still want that.

So why must everyone here patronize me about my decisions?

"We just want you to do what is best for you."

If that were true, you would see that being near my family is important to me.

Moving across the country isn't about scenery and nightlife. It isn't for me, anyway.

So why is it that only one person here is willing to look at me and say, "I want you to do what is best for you... and sometimes that decision isn't about having fun."

I understand that they don't want me to be stuck in the midwest when there are such great opportunities in the world... but it's so hard to see myself anywhere else.

I might finally be "going home" at the beginning of the summer. It's not about truth or justice or love anymore. It's about getting away. It's about sexuality. It's about, fucking, everything that could ever be right in the world just falling to shit, and none of us caring. It's about living for who I am, for who she is, and for what we may become. What we probably won't become, but giving up that hope would be admitting defeat. No. There is no defeat here. There is simply a drive. Maybe I will finally find my home, maybe not. But it's better than here. I mean... southern Jersey felt more like home to me than this place. We may leave right at the end of school. All that I desire is made available by a green station wagon and an amber liquid; a green slip of blended paper and cotton; a second and third amber liquid. This is how it must be.

My boyfriend at the time was 4 years older than me. We started talking right before I entered high school, and by the time I was a sophomore, I had saved him from the homeless shelter more than once.

I always made sure he had a place to live when his father was being a dick.

The middle of my sophomore year, his father kicked him out right before his birthday.

I talked my mom into saving his ass again.

And when my mom was gone, or sometimes before she woke up, we would mess around. I was 15 with a 19 year old boyfriend. What else would you expect?

My mom was too cracked out to notice.

But, one night, he told me, "We've been having a lot of fun, but every time we mess around I feel bad because you're so young."

That didn't stop him from sleeping in my bed with me that night.

The next night, I went to a friend's baseball game, and when I came back, my boyfriend was gone. He left no note. No goodbyes to those in the house. No thank yous. Just gone.

Sometimes I think I should have let him go to the shelter.

Home...

When I go home for holidays to visit my family, I always think that it is nice to be home. I miss being able to lay around in my pajamas all day just reading a book...I don't get to do that very much at my dorm.

After a while though, I begin to get restless. I miss my friends, I miss the atmosphere of the dorm I live in. I miss all the people in general...even the ones I don't really like. I tell my mom that I can't wait to go home, and she says that she is confused. "You are home," she says. How do I explain to her the dorm is now my home?

Sure, I love being around my family. I love not having to share a room. That is all great about being at my house. But the dorm has become my new home... For some reason I just love being surrounded by people. I love knowing that i'm never alone.

I guess home is where you are comfortable...

So my mom was right, I was home...but I still missed my other home.

home...what is it. is it where you are, where ur family is.? where your heart is, where you long for? Where you were born, where you were raised? your house, your town, your culture? your country, your state your street? is your home in a person -like your "home" when you're with someone... does that exist? how do u define it?